Altar of Twilight my own lived mythology

He follows the boy — Drogon his name was. While the black and blue boy weaved a tail of the Cerberus' magnificence, Ganon had yet to be impressed. He lived his whole life being told exaggerated tales. He had learned long ago to believe his eyes rather than the twisted memories of others. But he followed nonetheless, hoping that these three weren't worshipped as gods or anything ridiculous as that. Perhaps the boy was lovestruck.

He had never been to the Hinterlands or the mountains that preceded them. He had long seen them — who could miss it? — but he had never beheld their majesty. His head snapped back, staring up, trying to find the peak.

His head turned back down, eyes blinking at Drogon. Alright, He responded. Ganon nodded to the coywolf, stepping back. He didn't know how to look when the three women arrived. Calm? Casual? Smug? Beaten? He settled, looking blank for the moment, until they arrived.